


Want You More

by wheezebraks



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheezebraks/pseuds/wheezebraks
Summary: It’s almost 7AM and he’s standing outside Richie’s door. Suitcases at his feet and he hasn’t even knocked yet. Actually he can’t move. And he can’t breath. He wants to turn around and leave but — it’s not like he can just go right home. Eddie shakes out his hands and pulls in a breath, and he knocks. And, okay, he expects Richie to be asleep so he waits a moment and knocks again, harder. And repeats that one more time before he hears a muffled voice and something crashing behind the door.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 449





	Want You More

Being stuck in the hospital, hooked up to various different machines and only being able to get up and walk around like, _twice a fucking day_ , it leaves plenty of time really dive deep into the depths of his mind. And, like, okay sure, his life wasn’t all that great: New York City sucks, it’s overcrowded and littered, people are really fucking rude, and what was _ever_ the appeal of this place? He likes his job, so at least he gets in a little while of not being tightly wound. But after work? Oh, he gets to go home to his overbearing wife who handles him with kid gloves and hounds him to take medications he doesn’t even fucking need. And, _oh yeah_ , he realized that Myra was a carbon copy of his mother - _his mother_! 

So at least he’s not bored in the hospital, right?

He thinks of Derry, too, or at least the good parts of Derry: his best friends, _the Losers Club_! And he thinks about the clubhouse, his shared comic books, the hammock, he thinks about diving into the quarry, and spitting loogies into it. Somehow, separately, he thinks of Richie. Because, while he was apart of the club and he was definitely in all of those memories, it was always different with him. Aside from hanging out with all of them, Richie would sneak into his window and spend the night. He’d come over when Eddie wasn’t allowed outside. He was always the one to remind Eddie how strong he was, how _brave_. Eddie loved the Loser’s, but he loved Richie _different_. 

Of course, he doesn’t realize _how different_ until Richie is standing across from him at the Jade, and he’s making jokes at Eddie’s expense, and teasing him, and just overall looking at Eddie like he’s something important. 

And to make things worse, _or better he doesn’t fucking know_ , Richie stayed with him at the hospital almost every single night. Even when Ben and Bev left _together_ , and Bill eventually went back to his wife, Mike left next, headed to Florida, but not before telling Eddie he would fly back if he needed him and hugging him for like ten minutes straight, Richie _still stayed_. 

When he did finally go back to California, it was only when Eddie was discharged and he went back to New York. To his life, to his _wife_. To his job. 

(Sometimes after they both depart, Richie sends his address with the messages, _here if you ever need me_. Because, of course he does, Eddie had complained a bit about going back home.)

The problem? Eddie is more miserable now, and it probably has something to do with the fact that he’s aware of what he’s missing out on. Mike’s having a great time in Florida (he sends so many pictures and updates in the group chat), Richie went back to his dream job, oh and he lives in the same fucking state and Bill and Audra, Ben and Beverly combined their lives and are enjoying every second together in Nebraska. And Eddie is living in hell, his mother included!

He doesn’t contribute much to the Loser’s chat, not when everyone else is sending such incredible updates. 

So, when it all comes raining down, Eddie isn’t really surprised. Myra is going on and fucking _on_ about something he doesn’t care about. They’re at the dinner table and he’s moving his food around his plate, eyes heavy - he’s completely in his own mind so he doesn’t hear Myra ask him a question. 

All of a sudden, he can feel her gaze biting into him and he jolts, “ — what?”

She eyes him, it makes him uncomfortable, _small_ , “I asked if you took your medication today, you look exhausted. Are you getting sick? I told you you were working too much, Eddie bear, this is what happens —”

”I want a divorce.”

She stops, and it’s the first time she’s ever been speechless. She just gawks at him, expression twisted from mock worry, to confusion, to something he doesn’t even recognize. “No you don’t.”

It’s so matter-of-fact that it catches Eddie off guard. There’s a long moment of silence where they’re both just watching each other. 

Finally, Eddie drops his fork and pushes his plate, to rest his arms on the table. He sighs and goes serious, “Myra, I want a divorce. I’m not happy here. And I don’t just mean _here_ , in this house, but in this marriage, and in this city. I want a divorce.”

After that, it’s a domino effect. In one week, Eddie’s packed up his belongings, which only ends up being two medium sized suitcases and a small duffel bag (which only includes a handful of pill bottles, Derry made him remember that he’s not sick, he’s not delicate. He even leaves his inhalers.) He quits his job, and he’s staying in a hotel while he figures out his next steps. He’s been pretty much radio silent in the group chat during this, so it’s no surprise when Richie messages him privately. 

**Richie:** Yo, Eds, where the fuck have you been? Are you forgetting about us again? Because that’s totally uncool. 

**Richie:** Wait if you’ve forgotten then you don’t know who this is. It’s Richie Tozier, you know, your incredibly talented and funny best friend.

Eddie smiles, and sits at the foot of the hotel bed. He types a message three different times:

**Eddie:** No dipshit, I haven’t forgotten. I quit my job and divorced —

**Eddie:** Sorry I’ve been MIA, I’m staying in a hotel right now —

**Eddie:** I’m getting a divorce and I quit my job. I wasn’t happy and needed a change. I’m staying —

He deletes each of them and falls back, leaving his phone at his side. He sighs and realizes that he’s still not happy. Not really. He’s still in the city, and he’s staying in a fucking hotel. Fingers tap against his phone, eyes trail to the clock, it’s just past 9 o’clock and while it should be dark outside, the city lights still illuminate the outside. It’s still loud. 

He has to get out of there. 

The last time Eddie was truly happy, he lets himself think about it for a while, it was with the Losers. Or, more specifically, with Richie. His phone buzzes again, and he knows it’s Richie again. But, Eddie doesn’t open the message, he sits up again and books a flight to Los Angeles. He doesn’t even really think about it.

There’s a flight leaving at eleven o’clock. A six and a half hour flight, a thirty-five minute drive to Richie’s, he would be there somewhere around six in the morning. It’s not ideal, he’s aware of that, but he needs to see Richie. He can’t explain it but, he needs it. 

And, so, off he goes. Drives to the airport only to realize he can’t take his fucking car. Then decides stupidly to message Myra and ask her to pick it up and do something with it. And _then_ realizes that he’s going to spend way too much money on a cab ride to Richie’s place. This was clearly very poorly thought out. And more spontaneous than anything he’s ever done in his entire life. 

But, God, he knows that the second he sees his idiotic best friend, he’s going to be happy again. He’s going to fee like himself because Richie always made Eddie feel comfortable and safe and _happy_ and _wanted_ and _important_ and _loved_. Truly fucking loved. 

(It dawns on him about one hour into that flight that he should’ve messaged Richie back. Maybe told him his plans. Or that he was alive. Or that he didn’t forget. But now, his phone is on airplane mode and it’s past midnight and _Jesus Christ_ , maybe this was a bad idea.)

Luckily, he gets some sleep on the plane. Maybe a total of a couple hours. Too jittery to really get any more than that. Leg bouncing and fingers tapping. When the plane lands and Eddie makes it to his luggage, it’s been fifteen minutes. It takes another ten to get a taxi and then the thirty plus minutes to make it to Richie’s house. Which is pretty fucking large, but what did he expect?

It’s almost 7AM and he’s standing outside Richie’s door. Suitcases at his feet and he hasn’t even knocked yet. Actually he can’t move. And he can’t breath. He wants to turn around and leave but — it’s not like he can just go right home. Eddie shakes out his hands and pulls in a breath, _and he knocks_. And, okay, he expects Richie to be asleep so he waits a moment and knocks again, harder. And repeats that one more time before he hears a muffled voice and something crashing behind the door. 

Richie opens the door, rubbing at his eyes, he’s not wearing his glasses. His curls are sticking up in odd places, he’s shirtless, and looks utterly confused. 

”I’m not interested, _please_ —”

Richie stops and opens his eyes a bit wider, surely taking in the blurry form in front of him and the things at his feet. “Uh, what’s happening.” His voice is still rough with sleep and clearly he’s having a hard time with this. “Eddie?”

“Uhm, yeah — so, I didn’t forget about you. And I’m getting a divorce. I quit my job too, I was actually staying in a hotel the past few days, and then you text me and I came here?” He says it all in the one breath he’d been holding, eyeing Richie and shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

Richie runs a hand over his face, processing, before looking at the suitcases and saying, “what?” And, fair, it’s a lot for seven in the morning. He steps back and shakes his head, “Eddie would you _please_ come inside, I don’t really know what’s happening and I need to sit down.” 

Eddie rolls his baggage inside and stands awkwardly in the middle of the foyer, while Richie turns and walks away from him to sit on the couch. It takes a minute for Eddie to follow. He doesn’t sit. He _does_ pace though. 

”I’m sorry — this was a dumb idea right? But I’ve had a hell of a week and when you text me last night it dawned on me that nothing had really changed because, because I was still unhappy. And I thought back to the last time I was happy and it was with you -”

”The clown thing _was_ pleasant, huh?”

”- so I booked the first flight and, here I am. I know it’s really sudden, but you gave me your address and basically told me to come if I needed anything and, well I’m kind of homeless and jobless. This probably wasn’t what you expected when you offered and if you want to rescind that’s okay, too. I would totally understand. I mean, I didn't plan any of this. I didn't plan the divorce, I literally sprung it on her during fucking dinner - _she told me no_ at first, which is like, _what_? And I quit my job because I was unhappy with that, too. It wasn't planned. None of this was planned, it just —”

Richie raises his hands in defense, “Jesus Christ, Eds, are you having a mental breakdown right now? Just, hold on.”

Richie leaves the room, shouting behind his back to tell Eddie to _sit the fuck down_. He’s only gone for a few minutes, returns with his glasses resting on his nose and he’s wearing a t-shirt now. He sits down again, across from where Eddie’s perched in a chair. 

The room is silent, Richie’s gaze is held on Eddie, and Eddie is looking around, “okay,” he finally says, and catches Eddie’s attention. “So you got divorced?”

“Oh my God, Richie, catch up.”

”Dude I haven’t been awake this early since like — _college_. Give me a minute, you fucking maniac.” He laughs and shakes his head, “so you got divorced. And you quit your job. Okay, not a problem. You can stay here. I’ve got a guest bedroom. I can help you out, with whatever you need.”

This time, Eddie gawks, there isn’t even an ounce of hesitation in his voice. Offers up his home like it’s nothing. Like it should’ve been obvious that this was okay. As if he isn’t putting his life on a brief hold to help his insane best friend during this crisis. 

And, that’s why Eddie loves him. _Fuck_ , of course he does. He has for literally as long as he can think of. That memory hit him like a tons of bricks the second he laid eyes on Richie back in Derry. It never mattered what Richie was doing, he always made sure he was there for Eddie. No matter what. Like Eddie held the answers to everything Richie was asking. He wants to cry. 

Instead, he sighs and offers a small smile, “thanks Rich. Just for now, ya know? I won’t bother you for long.”

”You’re not a bother, Eddie.”

* * *

_Just for now_ has turned into three months. They've got a routine, even. The guest room has turned into Eddie's room, his suitcases were unpacked within the week he'd arrived and now they're stuffed away somewhere in storage. Eddie isn't even sure if _storage_ means Richie's house or an actual unit somewhere. A month and a half in, Eddie got another job, and he still enjoys it. He promised Richie that he would be out of his hair soon enough, but then still never left. He helps with the bills and does most of the grocery shopping. He wakes up early in the morning, makes coffee and leaves it on for Richie even after he's already left for work. He comes home and lounges on the couch with Richie and _together_ they watch stupid television shows and movies. Sometimes they order take out and sometimes Eddie cooks (Richie cleans, that's the deal.) It feels oddly domestic, but if either of them actually notice that, neither of them say anything about it. Even the Losers know that Eddie has moved in with Richie. The two of them, and Bill and Audra go out sometimes. They're all planning on a trip to Nebraska in the spring, a big Loser's Club reunion. Ben says the house is big enough for them all. 

In the meantime, Richie is preparing to go on tour. He leaves in one week and will be gone for _three_. He swears up and down that it's not weird for Eddie to stay even when he's gone, asks who the hell is going to water the plants, to which Eddie reminds him, _there are no plants_. But he agrees, and so Eddie is staying for at least another month. The excuses are easy to find, really. Neither of them want Eddie to leave. 

Richie has nightmares sometimes, Eddie remembers specifically the first time he'd heard Richie shouting in the middle of the night. He'd groaned and thrown a pillow over his head, and when he heard it again he was up in seconds, rounding the corner and nearly busting down the door. Richie's entire body looked tense, his face was screwed up and one hand clenched the sheets. He was mumbling something and looked _hurt_. Eddie knelt down beside his bed and rested a palm on his cheek. It was soft. Light, so Eddie didn't further scare him.

"Rich — Richie, wake up." His thumb circles around his cheek, "hey, come on. Wake up, man. _Richie_."

He startles, jolts upwards with a gasp and looks frantically around the bedroom. "Eddie," he says, broken, it's the most heart wrenching tone.

"I'm right here."

At his voice, Richie whips his head around like he hadn't been expecting him to be there. Eyes are wide and filled with terror. His chest heaves and a hand bolts out to snatch his glasses, only to look at Eddie again, bewildered. Eddie can only stare right back. It's quiet for a long stretch of time while Richie calms his breathing, never breaking eye contact, he searches Eddie's face, and then his gaze trails down to his clothed chest.

It's the first time that Richie tells Eddie about the deadlights and how he saw Eddie die, how he sees Eddie die almost every fucking night in his dreams. It's also the first night that Eddie sleeps in Richie's bed, all curled up into his chest like they used to sleep when they were kids. They had to sleep so close in Eddie's twin sized bed. This is no different, well except that Richie's bed is twice the size.

This happens every so often, but nothing changes between the two. It's still the same, lingering touches and glances. Laughter in between the teasing and the jokes. It's like they don't want to step over that line of being _too close_ , but they'll get pretty damn close to it. Eddie thinks they're going to cross it almost every time he wakes up in Richie's bed, pulled tight to his chest like he's afraid to lose him. But, Richie usually brushes it off and gets up to shower and get ready for the day. One moment of bliss before it returns to their normal, and they begin their daily routines. 

It's infuriating that three months have passed and Eddie is still afraid to actually say those three words to Richie. He had flown to fucking LA in the middle of the night on a fucking _whim_ , but he can't tell Richie why he did it? Okay, sure, makes sense.

* * *

It all comes to a head two days before Richie's set to leave for his tour. Eddie's feeling a bit tense, he's seen Richie's shows and knows the kind of shit he jokes about. The _women_ he talks about. Maybe it's selfish, but Eddie doesn't want to have to hear about how and who he's spending his nights with. He's been extra wound up as of late and he's snapping at Richie for the smallest things. Like, leaving a mess in the kitchen after Eddie has cleaned it, or getting angry when he comes home ridiculously late and is loud as all hell as if he _wants Eddie to know_ he's just gotten home. Occasionally, when Richie cracks a joke on Eddie's behalf, he gets extra angry about them. If there's something to be frustrated about, Eddie finds it, and he takes it out on Richie. Unfairly, but. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" He finally asks, one morning when Richie spills coffee on the countertop and Eddie shoves him out of the way to clean it up, grumbling all of the way.

Eddie turns on him, "nothing is wrong!" He _shouts_ and flails his arms up.

"Clearly," Richie retorts, rolling his eyes and pouring himself another cup of coffee. "God forbid you wake up on the right side of the bed for fucking _once_."

"Forgive me for trying to keep this place clean. One of us should care, since the other spends his free time going out and doing, _whatever the fuck_ you're doing all hours of the night. The only thing you do when you're here is make a fucking mess!"

Richie's new coffee mug is slammed down on the counter, effectively spilling more and shaking out his hand where it burns skin. "It's _my house_ , who the fuck cares if I don't clean up after myself. I'm not a fucking child, and you're not my parent. You don't have any say in what I do, _Eddie_."

The _my house_ part really hits him. Makes his heart race a little faster and his hands begin to tremble. He nods and looks away, "okay," his voice is low, defeated. "I'll get my shit and I'll go. You can have your house back." It may be an overreaction, but Eddie never wanted to overstay his welcome in the first place. And, _fuck_ , if he wasn't so enamored with Richie, he wouldn't care what he's doing. He wouldn't care that Richie is going to be gone for three weeks and he's definitely not going to know what he's getting into out there. 

"Eds, wait," Richie sighs and grabs his wrist to keep him from walking off. "I don't want you to leave — I didn't meant that. But, _come on_ , man. You've been a little over the top lately, huh? I can't do anything without you starting a screaming match." He laughs, but it's forced, "wanna tell me what's going on in that head of yours?"

Eddie's gaze drops to where Richie's still holding onto him. It feels like electric is coursing through his entire being. He shrugs, but Richie looks at him pleadingly and raises his brows slightly. "Do you know what it's like?" He asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. Eddie does not look up at Richie, gaze holding onto the tile floor of the kitchen instead. "I left my entire life behind because, because it wasn't my life. I flew here because when I tried to remember the last time I had been slightly happy, I saw _you_. And you just let me live here. I mean, you didn't even ask any questions. You just accepted it." He sighs, and runs his free hand over his face, "I don't want you to leave on this fucking tour because _I know_ I'm going to end up losing this — losing you. Your this big time comedian and you always put bits into your show about the girls your with and —" he yanks his hand out of Richie's grasp, "I love you, Richie. And I know it's not fair to spring that on you like this, but you're leaving and I'm going to be _here_ , still in your house and —"

Before he can register anything, including what he said, Richie is reaching out for him again and pulling Eddie into his space. Hands come up to cup his face and they're just inches apart, Eddie can feel his breath against his lips. "Eds," he whispers, eyes roaming his features before closing the distance and kissing Eddie _hard_. It's just a dry press of lips until Richie backs Eddie against the counter and slips his tongue in when Eddie gasps. He only takes a second to process, before hands wind around his shoulders and presses closer, kissing back in earnest. Richie's hands grip his waist, and then trail down just enough to lift Eddie up and onto the countertop, without breaking the kiss. He takes up the space in between Eddie's thighs and bites at his bottom lip, it elicits a delicious moan from Eddie and only encourages him to keep going. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, and when Eddie is the one to pull away for air, Richie nips at his bottom lip again, kissing down his jaw, his neck, to his collarbone, like he can't get enough of Eddie. 

Eddie, on the other hand, lets out a breathy laugh and runs his fingers through Richie's hair to pull his head away. "Rich, _Christ_ , hold on." Richie shakes his head and tries to dive back in for more, which pulls another laugh, "Richie. I didn't know — are you— ?"

"Yeah, Eddie," he answers, with a sly grin, "God, I've been in love with you since I was ten fucking years old. I didn't even know what it meant to love someone as much as I loved you. These past few months have been _hell_ trying to keep my hands off of you. The only reprieve I got was when I had a nightmare and you slept in my bed." He rolls his eyes, hands still bruising on his hips. "I started to welcome the bad dreams, how fucked up is that?"

Absolutely in shock, he can't look away. Watching Richie's lips as he talks, trying desperately to take this in. It's what he's wanted for _ever_. Literally for fucking ever. They both take in each other and Richie lets out a breath, "can you process this later? I really want to kiss you again."

Eddie nods and brings their lips back together, kisses him again, like his entire life depends on it. He parts his lips and hums when Richie deepens the kiss again, hungrily. He rolls his hips up into Eddie’s and pulls him closer to the edge of the counter, leaning forward slightly. Eddie can feel how hard Richie is, and it makes him whimper against his lips. They kiss like this for another moment, Richie grinding their hips together until they need to breath again. This time when they part, Richie drops his forehead against Eddie’s, dropping lazy kisses to his lips, his nose, catching their breaths 

”Bedroom,” Eddie says breathless. And Richie wastes no time. He doesn’t even let Eddie jump down back to the tile. 

Richie picks him up, and Eddie shakes his head, but he can’t fight back. He can’t pretend right now that he hates when Richie carries him. Arms wrap around his shoulder and he kisses his jaw, bites down on his collarbone and Richie falters for a moment before groaning and remembering their endgame here. 

Once _finally_ in Richie’s bedroom, he drops Eddie down onto the bed, Eddie scoots up and rests his elbows against the pillows. Richie’s pupils are blown and he’s looking at Eddie and he can tell just from his gaze how much Richie wants him, it’s overwhelming 

Richie crawls up into the bed and hovers over Eddie, finger on his chin and tilting his head up to capture his lips again. Eddie indulges him, rolling his hips up, thrilled when he moans into Eddie’s mouth. It only makes him kiss Eddie harder, deeper, desperate to survive and Eddie’s his lifeline. His hands roam down Eddie’s chest, to hips hips. Richie leans away, nipping his jaw as he does so. His hands drop to the waist of Eddie’s jeans, to the zipper. It’s ungodly slow and Eddie whimpers. 

”You’re _killing_ _me_ Rich.”

The asshole grins, absolutely wicked and wanting, and he slides Eddie’s jeans and underwear down, tossing them carelessly away and licking his lips once his cock is free. “Fuck, Eds,” he whispers. 

Eddie shoots up and kisses him again, mewling when his Richie’s hand starts stroking his dick. He can’t focus on much, but somehow he gets Richie to fucking take his pants and underwear off, too, tugging at the hem of his shirt until it’s thrown onto the floor too. Eddie does the same and Richie’s pushing Eddie back down onto the mattress and kisses a trail up his chest. Eddie hears the bedside drawer being opened and then closed. The _click_ of a bottle being opened and then Richie is leaning back again, pressing their lips together quickly before pulling away. 

Lube spreads onto two fingers, and he nods just to get Richie moving at a slightly quicker pace. His head falls back into the pillows when one finger presses into his hole, and then a second one comes shortly after. A high picture noise is pulled from Eddie’s lips when he starts to scissor him open. Richie catches another moan against his lips, and he’s pulling his fingers out much to Eddie’s protesting. 

“I got you, baby.” Richie says, and it’s so quiet and he sounds absolutely wrecked. 

He only feels empty and desperate for a split second before Richie’s slipping three fingers back in, and Eddie howls, gripping his bicep and rolling his hips with every thrust. “God, R- _Richie_.” Richie thrusts his fingers in faster, pulling moans from Eddie that makes his dick twitch. “I’m ready — Richie, p - please. _Please_.”

He groans when Richie pulls out again, propping up on his elbows and almost loses it again when Richie lubes up his dick and he sucks in a breath, eyeing Richie, absolutely unraveling. 

Richie hovers over Eddie, lips pressed against his as the head of his dick presses in. Eddie can’t feel embarrassed of the sounds he’s making, nails biting into Richie’s bicep, his other hand resting on the back of his head, threading fingers through curls and pulling slightly at every inch of Richie that sinks into him. 

Once he bottoms out, Richie’s panting at Eddie’s ear, holding himself still, “good?” He asks, nibbling on his earlobe. 

Eddie nods, “yeah, yeah Rich. _Fuck_ ,” he grinds his hips up experimentally and moans again, “Rich, move. Move, I’m okay.”

And he does, his thrust setting a slow pace, planting kisses to any part of Eddie’s body that he can reach, worshipping him completely. 

”Eddie, baby, _fuck_.” He slides out until just the head of his dick is inside Eddie, and then thrust hard into him, groaning. “God, I love you. _Fuck, Eds_ , I love you so fucking much.”

Eddie fucking mewls, at Richie’s words and the faster pace he’s setting. Thrusting into him harder, faster. “I- _fuck_ , I love you, too.” His back arches slightly, meeting each of Richie’s thrusts as he presses his hips up. 

Warmth pools in his belly, hands scratching down Richie’s back, “you feel so good, Eddie, I’ve wanted this for so long.” Eddie can tell Richie’s getting close, his thrusts becoming uneven and a little more brutal. 

Eddie’s moaning louder than he’s ever done before. Everything is getting fuzzy, and he’s tipped right over the edge when Richie’s hand slips between them and strokes once, twice, three times at his dick, ropes of cum shooting between them, covering Richie’s hand and his own stomach. He pants and Richie continues to stroke him through his orgasm. 

“Jesus, Eds,” Richie says, but he misses it. Too overcome by the stars and fucking fireworks going off as he comes down. 

A hand falls against the bed and Richie’s hand slips into it, pressing into the mattress, thrusting two more times before shooting off inside Eddie. He’s breathing heavily, movements erratic as he reaches his high. Lips press against Eddie’s as he moans, feeling so full and so warm. 

Richie falls against Eddie, still breathing heavy as he comes down. 

They lay like that for a moment before Richie leans up, a lazy smile on his lips and cups Eddie’s cheek. He kisses his forehead, pulling out and falling beside Eddie, half on top of him. 

Eddie’s hand drops on Richie’s chest, turning his head to meet his eyes. “I love you.”

Richie hums, “say it again.”

He turns into Richie and leans close enough that the words ghost right over Richie’s lips, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

Richie says it back, against his lips, and Eddie likes the taste of it. They only have a few more minutes of bliss before Eddie starts to feel gross and has to get up, pulling Richie up with him and to the shower.

It’s not a quick shower. Eddie’s pressed up against the wall and Richie’s kissing him like he’ll die if he doesn’t. Trading ‘I love yous’ and basking in the moment. 

When they do finish, Richie’s out of the shower first, Eddie stays a bit longer. Scrubbing his chest clean. He almost misses Richie asking him to go on tour with him. 

Eddie’s out of the shower seconds later, “I have a job, Rich.”

”Well yeah, but you don’t _need it_. Not really.” He pouts his lower lip, leaning close to Eddie, “please? I love you.”

Eddie sighs like he’s put off by this, leaning up on his toes to press their lips together. “How can I say no to that?”

It takes a moment to click, and then Richie breaks the kiss and beams, “does that mean yes?”

”I can’t very well wait three weeks for you to fuck me again.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, anyways, this is my first smut fic.  
> Comments / kudos !


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